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jimmys-zeppelin · 1 year

Text

moonbeam

ch. iv

table of contents

may 7, 1998

It was 2:30 when Sabrina finally headed downstairs to take a look around the store. She was counting the minutes until the end of her eternal shift. And there was still no sign of Jimmy. But she pushed that thought into the furthest reaches of her mind.

In the meantime, Sabrina entered the employee lounge and poured herself a cup of tea. Others were milling about in the area, ignoring Sabrina’s presence as she did theirs. She took a cold scone on a communal plate and contemplated if a bite would destroy her teeth. She took the plunge and the baked good crumbled uncomfortably into her mouth. She quickly set it down, prompting it for the bin when over the loudspeaker, a voice came through.

"Sabrina to register, please. Sabrina to register, thank you!"

Sabrina felt eyes on her in an instant. She gathered her sad excuse for a midday snack and tossed it all as she hurried for the front of the store.

There, she saw his back first, then the awestruck faces of her coworkers stood before him. His curls were visibly wet.

Conner, Sabrina’s closest colleague at Clarence's, waved her down as soon as they'd established eye contact. In her chest, Sabrina could feel her heartbeat quicken and her palms became sweaty.

"Sabrina, this gentleman needs alterations on a few suits that he's picked up. Erm, Daniel's not here, would you mind helping him out?" Another employee, Vincent, who had been visibly nervous, asked.

Finally, Jimmy turned to face her, the faintest glint of green in his eyes caught hers. His soft, nervous smile made her melt just a little bit inside. But she pulled herself together quickly and flashed a courteous, yet genuine smile up at him.

"Yes, of course. Jimmy, let me show you upstairs where I'll be fitting you," she turned to her coworkers, "Are his clothes already up there?"

They all nodded as scattered yeses came from the small group before them. Then, Sabrina escorted Jimmy up the carpeted steps.

"How are you?" she asked, mostly as a courtesy, though she would be lying if she said she wasn't even the slightest bit intrigued.

"Good, good. My bandmate and I will be touring soon so, uh, if I disappear for a while, don't forget me."

"How could I?" Sabrina chuckled awkwardly, immediately regretting the words as they left her mouth.

"Yes, well. I find I'm quite forgettable at times."

"Nonsense," she replied as she darted back and forth around the fitting area in an attempt to locate where his suits had been hung.

"I do recall you didn't know who I was when we met..."

"That's not true," Sabrina answered, peeking out from a side room with the three suits in her arms. "I had a suspicion."

Jimmy hummed, his tone revealed slight amusement. "Right."

"Right is right! You can't say I didn't." she said as she entered a changing booth and hung his suits inside.

Jimmy followed after her, his full figure leaning against the room's frame. He crossed his arms. "I suppose..." he said dramatically, a shrug added for some extra flair.

"Shut up," Sabrina said, holding her laughter as she stepped forward in an attempt to leave the tight space. Jimmy had blocked her exit. Even at her modest five and a half feet, his presence was unwittingly powerful.

Sabrina wetted her lips, her eyes unable to stop themselves from admiring the features of his face. His full cheeks, brilliant emerald eyes marked at the edges with smile lines. She formed a small, unconscious smile.

When she took in a breath, the smell of his cologne overcame her senses. It was far different from any men's perfume she'd ever smelled before. Though, as her eyes trailed up to his drying curls, she felt the sudden waft of nicotine on him. The faint smell soured in her nose, it quickly snapped her out of his spell.

It wasn't until Jimmy had reached a hand out toward her that Sabrina managed to slip through and sidestep him, her feet being her guide back to relative safety; not that she was in any actual danger. His fingers had managed a brush at her forearm. That, combined with their short lived battle of stares, frazzled Sabrina to no end. Had it been any other man she was attracted to, she wouldn't have had a problem...

But this was a wildly inappropriate situation. Not only was Sabrina at work, but Jimmy was her client. And beside the obvious factors, he was twice her age, making for a truly awkward scene.

And yet, she still couldn't help wanting to give him a chance.

Jimmy opened his mouth to speak, confused by her haste to move away, but Sabrina was quicker in her sudden rush of anxiety. "Have you been fitted with us before?" she asked.

He looked taken by the question, blinking before he could articulate his response, "Erm, no, I don't think so."

Sabrina nodded shortly, "You can head inside, put one of the suits on. I'll just..." she paused, in need of an excuse so she could leave the room.

"I haven't made you uncomfortable, have I?"

"No! No, I promise. You didn't do anything!" she exclaimed in a fit of nerves, her cheeks burning as she said so. Why couldn't he just go into the room?

"I suppose I didn't, I just—Your cheeks are bright red," Jimmy laughed.

"Would you like a cup of water, Jimmy? Or tea...a coffee?" she replied, deflecting.

He shook his head, and when he turned his back to her, Sabrina sped for the water cooler in her office just beyond the curtain.

After her third cone-shaped cup, she assured herself that her cheeks had returned to their regular pale shade. Then, after she took a quick glance at her cell phone for any missed calls—sure there wouldn't be any—she returned to the fitting area. Jimmy stood there and admired himself in the mirror, nearly missing Sabrina as she returned.

"That all because I tried to touch your arm?" Jimmy teased.

"I dunno what you're talking about," Sabrina answered in jest, avoidant of the question while she began her examination on the fit of the suit. "This the one you're taking with you?"

"I hope so," she noticed him peering at her in the mirror. She met his gaze with a short glance, focusing on his suit again as she reached for her safety pins.

"Where are you off to?" She asked, muffled by the pin between her teeth.

"Florida first. The States, obviously."

"You been to Florida before?" Sabrina asked, pinning where she deemed fit.

"Yes, many times. Usually on tour, though."

"Never for leisure?"

Jimmy thought on it for a moment. He cleared his throat before answering. “Yes, well, I went a long time ago with my daughter when she was little. Her mother and I took her to Disney World."

"You have a daughter?" She asked, keeping her voice level so as not to sound too intrigued by the fact. Sabrina never would've guessed that Jimmy was the "children" type.

He nodded. "Scarlet."

"Nice. I didn't know you had children. With your," she hesitated, "rock star status and all."

"Well, musicianship has nothing to do with it," Jimmy chuckled, "all of us had children...families and such."

"Right, right," She moved around to his arm, "Sorry, I made an assumption."

"It's alright, you couldn't have known."

Between the achingly awkward pause between them, Sabrina carried on with her safety pins on his suit. From what she could tell he had taken a larger size than his own, making it easier to alter to his own size, which she was sure was a skill he'd picked up from past experience.

Jimmy watched on passively while Sabrina did her job. "Any way you can make the bottom shorter?" he asked.

"Sure," she said. "Compensating for the long arms," she muttered as she pinched the bottom of the jacket, folding it up a bit before looking to Jimmy for approval.

"Did you just say I have long arms?"

"Hm? No," Sabrina said, humor evident in her voice. "Is this okay for length?"

Jimmy huffed in place of his stifled laugh. Taking a look, he guided her hand a lower so that a half inch was taken off the bottom instead of a full one. His hand was soft against hers, the delicate manicured hand quite a contrast to his, trimmed nails and calloused fingertips. His fingers lingered for a second while she pinned the coat. "That should be okay,” he said.

When he pulled his hand away, Sabrina's eyes trailed behind it. Suddenly she was remorseful for sidestepping him in the booth. She pushed the thought away and shifted her attention to see if the shoulders were okay on the jacket. She pinched them a bit at the sides and noted the large gap between his shoulder and the coat itself.

"This coat is far too big," she chuckled.

"Arms," Jimmy replied.

"I suspected that as well,” Sabrina smiled, pinning the shoulders as well before closing the jacket at the front. She checked to see if the fit followed the silhouette of his waist and moved onto his pants. She hung his jacket onto a nearby mannequin and began to take a preliminary look at the fit of the pants.

Sabrina dared a glance—as inconspicuously as she could—below his belt, taking note of each and every curve his figure brought to her eyes. She noted how his clothing stretched and loosened with each breath, how the small fluff of graying chest hair peeked out from his shirt, the way his hands fell at his sides; his fingers anxiously brushed against one another. It was almost adorable; Sabrina cracked an inconspicuous smile.

Her type, if she had one, certainly didn’t trend toward men twice her age who had curves rather than edges, but...something about Jimmy's figure drew her in achingly closer. She couldn't seem to keep her eyes in one place, finding that everywhere she chose to focus made the blood pump louder in her ears.

Sabrina merely had to add a pin to make the back a bit tighter and looked to Jimmy to see if he had any qualms. With the shake of his head, he started back towards the booth to change into the second suit he'd picked out.

☽

"Sorry if I was a bit…odd back there," Jimmy said. He had pulled his credit card from his wallet and gestured toward the fitting area. "I feel like I put you off."

"Put me off how?" Sabrina asked in an attempt to play dumb. She knew exactly what he meant. If anything, she knew it was her fault that things had gone strangely.

"Erm," he scratched the back of his neck. "You know—actually just forget it. How much?"

She rang him up, "£600. Alterations come free with purchase.”

"How much do you want for a gratuity?"

"Oh, Jimmy you don't have to—" Sabrina tried to shut him down, her heart racing again with embarrassment.

"Sabrina," Jimmy insisted, "Let me give you a tip."

She stood firm, shaking her head far too many times, "I don't want your money."

He opened his mouth to protest her further, but came up short. Sabrina cut in before he could articulate himself.

"The suits should be ready by next Thursday. Is that enough time?"

"Yes, more than enough. Thank you, Sabrina."

"Of course. It's my job, after all," she chuckled, "All I need is your signature on this receipt."

"I can do that," Jimmy muttered as he took the pen she had offered him and signed on the dotted line. When she saw him scribbling something else down, she furrowed her brow.

The paper slid back towards her across the counter. Sabrina eyed it curiously, unable to ignore the phone number scrawled beneath Jimmy's signature. She looked back up at him, wordlessly begging for an explanation.

"My phone number. In case you should run into any…trouble. I'm home most days," he tapped rhythmically on the counter, watching Sabrina as she neatly folded his proof of payment and set it off to the side.

"Thanks," she smiled. Sabrina then reached beneath the counter to retrieve a thin cardboard box. "My business cards have actually come in, so if you have any questions," she paused as she took a card from the box and handed it to him. "If I'm not here, you can call my cell," she said, not waiting for a response before she scribbled down her cell phone number on the back of the card.

"Thank you," Jimmy replied as he pocketed the cardstock. “So that means I can toss Daniel’s card, right?”

Sabrina laughed, "Do as your heart desires."

"I'll come by next week then."

"I look forward to it," she said, watching as his hand formed into a fist by his side. Jimmy squeezed his fingers closer to his palm, then once she cast her eyes back to his she found that neither of them could leave their place.

"I should get going," he said, his tone regretful.

"Right. Busy rock star life, right?" she teased.

"Oh yeah, got a long night of rehearsals to get through," Jimmy smiled, looking down at the floor before him as they both laughed. With another long glance, Jimmy finally said his goodbyes and made his way toward the exit. The sounds of the busy London streetscape flooded the store before they were just as quickly muted by the closing of the door.

The musty scent of the store returned to her senses and Sabrina grimaced. Thursday couldn't come any faster.

☽

Zachary had already been waiting for Sabrina as she approached her apartment building. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, the sound of the gum smacking over in his mouth could be heard from a few feet away.

"Oh, look, it's my stalker," Sabrina chuckled. Her keys clinked as she searched for the correct key for her front door.

"Took you long enough," Zachary replied with a nudge to Sabrina's arm.

"Wanker," she muttered, letting them into the musty building and start up the creaky stairs.

"Slag," he answered. "You got any food?"

"And if I don't?" she teased.

"Can I stay the night, actually? Mum's been getting on me about finding a job after school and I can't do another dinner like that, Sab."

She met the question with pause. What if Jimmy called? Would Jimmy call? He had given her the number in a professional setting. There was no way he'd call her. Right?

The door swung open and the siblings pushed into the small flat. "I can feed you, but you've gotta go back home tonight."

"Beanie come onnnn," Zachary whined, "What is it? You've got some lad coming over after I leave? Hey, there's my magazine," he said suddenly, reaching for the Guitar World issue she'd nicked from the house.

"I haven't got anyone coming over..." Sabrina answered, "You can have it back. I've already read it."

"I still don't know why you wanted to read it..."

"I was curious," she shrugged. Sabrina headed for the refrigerator and grabbed two soda cans for them, cracking her own open as Zachary caught the one thrown at him.

"This is just an interview with the guy. Nothing of guitar-ish interest,” he tried to justify.

"Is this an interrogation, Zach?"

"No, I just....forget it. I'm taking it back."

"Feel free," she answered and took a sip of her soda.

Zachary looked as if there was more he wanted to say on the topic, but quickly dropped it for fear he'd make himself more confused. Sabrina, on the other hand, was thankful. The less she had to disclose about Jimmy, the better. She was too old to be bickering with her brother, anyway.

Already knowing his way around her flat, Zachary turned the radio on and tuned it to Heart, where a flood of rock music came through the janky speakers.

"You're quiet," He said as he rifled through the drawer beneath the radio. He took a Chinese takeaway menu from it.

"I usually am quiet, you tosser."

"Something's off."

"Nothing's off,” She scoffed.

"You've met someone haven't you? I was only seventeen when you started seeing that twat, but I knew how you'd be all sneaky in your room. Ignoring me."

"Surprised you noticed me ignoring you over all the lousy music you listened to."

"So you are seeing someone?" Zachary asked. He walked over to the phone near the front door, dialing the number on the menu.

"No, I'm not seeing anyone," Sabrina rolled her eyes. Her fingers felt up the folded receipt in her pocket with Jimmy's phone number. She knew she shouldn’t have, but she didn’t want it to fall into the wrong hands; or so she told herself. Plus, she had made a note of his phone number in her files should she need to call him at work. Merely touching the thin paper made Sabrina’s heart race. Then, she couldn't hide the newfound smile on her face. Luckily Zachary had his back turned to her as he spoke with the Chinese restaurant.

☽

"So I should take her to a fancy restaurant?" Zachary asked.

"Where did you meet her again?" Sabrina answered. A lo mein noodle hung halfway out of her mouth as Zachary pestered her for what would impress his girlfriend for their anniversary.

"Well I met Amelia in sixth form," he swallowed, "But we didn't actually talk until I saw her at the Radiohead show last year."

Sabrina nodded, "She's clearly one of your types. Maybe something low key is her vibe. Girls like that don't buzz off fancy things too much," she stopped herself, "But that doesn't mean she doesn't like nice things.”

"My head is fucking spinning, Sab," he muttered, "Does she want something nice or not?"

"Do something sentimental. Maybe, I don't know, you could play her favorite Radiohead song on guitar."

"I can't learn that in a week!"

She eyed her brother up, about ready to kick him out on his ass. With each second that passed, Sabrina thought her phone had buzzed in her coat pocket. She became increasingly desperate to get Zachary out of her flat for the night.

"If you don't want to help me, just say so,” He spoke up.

Sabrina sighed, "It's not that. I've been distracted."

"Sab, all I ask for is five minutes of your time. You can just tell me what to do and I'll be out of your hair and you can go back to your stupid solitary life."

She then jabbed her chopsticks into her rice and pulled out a large piece of it, shoving it into her mouth. As she chewed, she took her time and mapped out each and every restaurant around London she had been to with Shaun in the past.

"Take her to Bluebird in Chelsea. Shaun took me last year for our fifth anniversary," she finally said, fighting the urge to punch her brother square across the face.

"If he took you there that means it's expensive,” he complained.

"It's reasonable. I went there a few months ago on my own, it's really not too bad."

Zachary pushed his chicken around on his plate, picking one and munched as he thought it over. Now he'd become the quiet one. After a long pause he nodded, "Fine."

"Good. Can you let me know if she likes it?"

"I will. Plus I have no idea what to get her."

"You're joking."

Zachary laughed sheepishly, "I am. I've already got her gift ready."

The two finished their meals, any remnant of ill will gone once they had begun discussing how increasingly crazy their mother had become.

Then, after a long bout of silence, Sabrina spoke up, "I met someone famous at the store a few weeks ago."

"Holy shit, who?" Zachary asked, now intrigued.

"You're a bigger fan of him than I am."

"Oh, come on Sab, that doesn't help at all."

Sabrina smirked, her eyes glancing over at the magazine still at the top of her pile. Zachary hadn't noticed, too focused on racking his brain for one name, any name.

"Guess," she said.

"I don't know. What does he do?"

"He's a musician."

Zachary's face twisted, deep in thought, "Jeff Beck?"

Sabrina's eyebrows furrowed, "Who?"

"Fuck you. Erm, shit, Liam Gallagher?"

"No."

"Another hint," he pushed.

"If I give you any more, it'll give him away."

"Describe him, then."

Sabrina's eyebrows rose, suddenly anxiety-ridden as Jimmy's presence invaded her mind. She pictured his towering height over her, his face—lips specifically—and his hair, the way his curls shrouded his forehead like a crown...was there any way to describe him like a normal person would?

"Well," she paused, "he was skinny back in his prime years. He's filled out a bit...he's got a nice face—"

"Is he supposed to be attractive or something?"

"I don't—I suppose so, Zach," she flubbed.

"You've got the hots for this guy! Look at the absolute state of your face!" Zachary guffawed.

Sabrina stammered, "That's not the point!" she fought, feeling the burn of her cheeks once she'd been put on the spot.

"Who is it? I give up."

Her heart was in her throat now. For what reason, Sabrina had no clue. Jimmy made her nervous even when he wasn’t a mere three inches away from her. She reached into her coat pocket on her seat back. The folded receipt was still the way it had been when she put it there, Jimmy's signature and phone number having not been a figment of her imagination, after all. Sabrina slid it across the table to Zachary.

He examined it for longer than made her comfortable, then the realization washed over his face. "That's why you stole my fucking magazine," he said, shock riddling his voice. "What? Is this his phone number?"

She nodded and took the receipt back before Zachary could memorize the number and ruin her (barely) possible chance with Jimmy.

"What the actual fuck, Sabrina?" he said, raking his fingers back through his hair. "Jimmy Page? And you?"

"Well he gave me his phone number because I'm altering his suits, but—"

"Sabrina, you have to let me meet him!"

"Absolutely fucking not!" Sabrina shot back, "I barely know this guy, I'm not letting you meet him. Not after the shit you pulled when we met Brian May."

"Beanie, I was twelve!"

"I don't care, Zach. You're not meeting him. I have to be professional."

Seething, Zachary accepted his fate, "Fine...but this is definitely weird."

"I guess I'll give you updates," Sabrina said with yet another shrug.

Then, he stood up, "Alright, well, I should be getting home," he stretched, his fingertips brushing the ceiling.

"Don't tell Mum and Dad about Jimmy," Sabrina said suddenly.

"Why?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Just don't."

"Holy shit you're gonna go after him, aren't you?"

"Just—"

"Fine, fine, I won't," Zachary conceded, raising his hands in surrender as he made his way to the door. "I'll see you soon?"

"Yeah. Good luck with your date," Sabrina said.

"Thanks. I'll call....sometime this week, I dunno," he sighed, ruffling his hair for what seemed like the thousandth time that evening.

"Love you?" Sabrina tried.

"Love you," Zachary said. He saw his way out,locking the door from the inside and loudly descending the stairs before the loud boom of the main door echoed through Sabrina's flat.

With a huff, she stood up and began to gather the trash and separate what was still edible.

She looked to the dining table. Zachary had forgotten to take his magazine.

masterlist | playlist

taglist: @keepcalmandcarryfire @witchesdust @jonesyjonesyjonesy @paginate54 @hejustsatisfiess @salixfragilis @modernloverss @reincarnated70sbaby @rebel-without-a-zeppelin @kyunisixx @blackberryblossom @jimmypages @foreverandadaydarling @lzep @n0quart3r @verrbena-in-the-air if you want to be added to the list let me know!

#y'all don't know how many times I rewrote this #I'm so sorry this took so long #this semester beat the shit out of me and then some #anyway it's okay here it is 😂#and thank u to jjj for beta reading for me u r a rock star!!#moonbeam #jabrina 4 ever #jimmy page #led zeppelin #fanfic #fanfiction #90s jimmy

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dorianbrightmusic · 4 months

Note

Saw the tag so wanted to send an ask! Do you want to talk/infodump about the history of antipsychotics and how that relates to ASD because that sounds fascinating.

oh my god i got asked to infodump about my most special of interests. thank you so much, most-definitively-a-human, you have made my day.

Disclaimer: I am not a psychiatrist or mental health professional, and I have no experience of either psychosis or taking psychiatric medication, so I can't promise that the facts are 100% perfect, nor that I have an understanding of what these facts mean in day-to-day life. But the least I can do is try to understand, and hope that someone else finds this interesting, or, better yet, useful.

I cannot be bothered tracking down all my sources again, so if anything in this post is interesting to you, please fact-check it, because I can't promise it's going to be right. This is medical information, so, as this is a rambling tumblr post, please take it with a grain of salt.

Skip to the end for the discussion of how autism, schizophrenia, and the antipsychotics are linked. Most of this is just me infodumping about antipsychotics, since I find them so fascinating for some reason.

Trigger warning: This post discusses medical abuse of people with severe mental illness and neurodevelopmental disorders, as well as the side-effects of psychiatric medication. There is also some discussion of self-harm in autism. As such, tread carefully.

A short(-ish) history of antipsychotics

In 1953, a new medication hit the market. Its name was chlorpromazine, and it belonged to a family of chemicals called the phenothiazines. The phenothiazines contained a lot of very, very revolutionary/historically significant meds – some highlights include methylene blue, an antimalarial that happened to be the first ever fully synthetic medication (which, due to its original purpose being 'fabric dye', had the convenient side effect of making your urine go blue); and phenbenzamine, which was not the first antihistamine ever (that honour goes to piperoxan, which is too toxic to use in humans), but was the first that was safe for use in humans. Phenbenzamine was very, very sedating, and from it, we got another compound, fenethazine. From fenethazine, we then got two derivatives: promethazine, and chlorpromazine.

Promethazine is an antihistamine, and like most old antihistamines, it's very sedating. As such, scientists tested whether promethazine worked for sedating people—and, indeed, it worked as a pretty good sedative. Its younger cousin, chlorpromazine, synthesised in 1950, also was very, very sedating. So, someone gave it to a psychiatric patient who was having a manic episode, and then, something cool happened. That is, the manic patient wasn't manic anymore.

Okay—so, chlorpromazine was sedating in a way that meant it could have some potential for previously difficult-to-treat psychiatric syndromes. (From memory, I'm fairly sure that lithium was around at the time, but frustratingly, not all mania responds to lithium. I don't know whether this patient had been trialled on lithium—all I know is that chlorpromazine worked for him.) So, it was trialled on quite a few psychiatric patients with schizophrenia, and they, too, seemed better.

Now, chlorpromazine, being related to promethazine, had a similar side-effect profile to most old antihistamines. That is, it made you eepy beyond belieepy (i'm sorry). This sedation was also accompanied, rather horrifyingly, by apathy, psychomotor retardation (thinking and moving much slower—I once saw someone online liken it to moving 'through molasses'), and emotional quieting. This triad—not moving, not wanting, and not expressing—was known as neurolepsis, and was originally thought to indicate that the drugs were working well. However, this wasn't necessarily true—in part, that's because schizophrenia spectrum disorders have negative, as well as positive, symptoms, and neurolepsis is basically a combination of actively worsened negative symptoms and physical/mental slowing. So, chlorpromazine made the psychosis better, but also induced neurolepsis, as well as several other side-effects (including but not limited to: reversible Parkinson's-like motor symptoms; orthostatic hypotension, which is when your blood pressure plummets when you stand; and anticholinergic effects, which I'm going to get back to later). Chlorpromazine was wonderful because it meant that finally, patients could deal with psychosis in a way that meant they didn't have to be institutionalised, and because it meant that much, much worse treatments (looking at you, insulin shock therapy) could finally be discarded. Chlorpromazine was awful, because, in addition to its awful side-effects, it wasn't always given consensually, and could be used to abuse and harm patients. Such is still an ongoing problem with antipsychotics—while they have revolutionised psychiatry and allowed many people to live much, much better lives, they've also indubitably been used to harm so many people. This is why it's crucial to have informed consent in psychiatry—and while I don't know how to handle this when a person is going through florid psychosis and is probably very, very scared, we ought to do much better than we are at the moment.

Due to the neurolepsis-inducing side-effect profile, chlorpromazine was deemed a neuroleptic. Most people will use the terms 'neuroleptic' (neurolepsis-inducer) and 'antipsychotic' interchangeably—however, the categories are a venn diagram, not a circle. There are some antipsychotics with only very mild neuroleptic effects (we'll get back to this), and some neuroleptics that aren't antipsychotic—for example, if you've ever the taken over-the-counter antinauseal/migraine relief drug called metoclopramide (Anagraine, Paramax, MigraMax, Metozolv, Reglan, etc), you've taken a neuroleptic. Neuroleptics are dopamine antagonists—that is, they bind to the receptor for dopamine in the brain, which means dopamine can't bind to that receptor, so you can't get the effects of dopamine at that bit. This basically explains neurolepsis as a syndrome, since dopamine is associated with reward pathways and movement; less dopamine in the reward pathways -> emotion blunting, lost motivation; less dopamine in the movement pathway -> i can't fricken' move, can't fricken' move emotionally, Parkinson's-like symptoms (Parkinson's is in part due to a dopamine deficiency in certain movement-related bits of the brain).

The antipsychotics allowed for de-institutionalisation to occur, and also gave rise to the tricyclic antidepressants, as imipramine (the first tricyclic antidepressant) is a chlorpromazine derivative. Fun! Problem was, these older psychiatric drugs tended to have fairly intolerable side-effects. So, the first-generation antipsychotics were by and large very neuroleptic—as such, we needed less neuroleptic antipsychotics for them to be tolerable. This started to happen around the 1990s and onwards, when the second-generation antipsychotics (SGAs)—olanzapine, risperidone, amisulpride, aripiprazole, quetiapine, etc.—started coming out. These SGAs bound to serotonin as well as dopamine receptors, and tended to have fewer motor side-effects than their older counterparts. They came with their own set of extra side-effects, however—some that come to mind are prolactin elevation (sexual side-effects), and appetite increases or decreases (this is not necessarily a bad thing)—but they're generally considered more tolerable, and while they're sedating, they're considered not to induce neurolepsis to the same degree. As such, they're called atypical (where typical means 'cue the neurolepsis and motor symptoms).

The problem with the typical/atypical split, however, is that most atypicals aren't quite as atypical as they're said to be. Every single atypical antipsychotic except for quetiapine and clozapine can still be linked to motor symptoms, and all of 'em can be linked to sedation of some degree. Moreover, one nasty motor side-effect of neuroleptics AND antipsychotics is this thing called tardive dyskinesia—tardive meaning late-onset, dyskinesia meaning unwanted/uncontrolled movements. So, over time, we go from Parkinson's-like symptoms (less movement) to tardive dyskinesia (more, unwanted movements), which is irreversible and sometimes progressive—the only way to deal with it is to switch to another antipsychotic and hope that it doesn't have the same effect, which is great, except if you've otherwise got a nice balance of symptom management and side-effects, that's a horrible curveball. The atypicals are said to cause tardive dyskinesia at much lower rates... except people still get TD on the atypicals. Moreover, most folks who are still taking typical antipsychotics have probably been on them longer than those on the atypicals, since people don't tend to try chlorpromazine first when quetiapine or olanzapine is more likely to do a better job of attenuating psychosis while inducing fewer adverse effects. As such, part of the difference in TD rates may be due to time, since TD develops in the long term. So, most atypicals aren't as atypical as is said.

Moreover, to split more hairs, just as antipsychotics and neuroleptics are a Venn diagram, SGAs and atypicals are also a Venn diagram, rather than a perfect overlap, due to the existence of one pesky compound called clozapine. Clozapine is pesky on several levels. Clozapine is reserved for those who've tried at least two other antipsychotics and found that they didn't fit, and this is because of its side-effects. Clozapine has a small chance of a potentially life-threatening side-effect called agranulocytosis—technically, almost all antipsychotics can cause agranulocytosis, but clozapine is the most likely to do it. If you get regular blood testing, which you will, if you take clozapine, you'll probably be fine. Otherwise, clozapine is the most atypical antipsychotic we have side-effects wise (of course, YMMV for individuals, since the human body doesn't behave according to textbooks), though it still has MANY side-effects, and it's also more likely than the others to be very effective for attenuating psychosis. (I say 'likely' because everyone's brain chemistry is different, so saying 'this drug is better than this drug' just isn't true, because different compounds work differently for different people. Some people will benefit nicely from haloperidol or perphenazine, others from ariprazole, and others will benefit most from taking mood stabilisers, instead of antipsychotics.) Clozapine is also a somewhat old antipsychotic, having been first put onto the market in 1972. But it tends to get lumped in with the SGAs simply because it's so atypical, which leads me back to the point: most atypicals aren't 100% atypical, and drug categorisation in psychiatry is confusing.

One other side-effect that antipsychotics tend to have is that they're usually very anticholinergic. Anticholinergic drugs reduce levels of a neurotransmitter called acetylcholine, which is very important for memory, movement, and so, so much more. However, the reason I mention memory is that most antipsychotics are contraindicated (recommended against) in those with dementia-related psychosis, primarily since depleting memory chemicals is the last thing you wanna do in someone with a major neurocognitive disorder. This is also why we need to be careful prescribing anticholinergics in those over 65. For the record: most severe mental illnesses tend to have some degree of neurodegenerative effect, which is why medication is so, so important, as it prevents that illness-related neurodegeneration: as such, taking an antipsychotic will prevent schizophrenia/bipolar/major depression-related cognitive decline and worsened illness, but may also have some subtle cognitive effects that probably balance out with those of the illness. It's something to monitor over time, but not something to be scared of.

I've harped on a lot about SIDE EFFECTS SIDE EFFECTS SIDE EFFECTS, so this is a reminder—if the name of a certain medication has been brought up here as associated with a side-effect, that doesn't mean the medication is necessarily bad. Antipsychotics have done a lot of good for many people, and so long as they are prescribed consensually, they will continue to be invaluable.

Also: not everyone who takes an antipsychotic has psychosis, and not every with psychosis takes antipsychotics. Medications don't necessarily indicate what illness someone has—they just help with symptoms, and antipsychotics can help with a heckuva lotta symptoms when used well.

Okay, great. How does this relate to autism, aside from that being proof that you, the author, meet criterion B3 for ASD?

We're almost there.

Several early theories of autism conceptualised it as a pervasive, childhood-onset form of schizophrenia ('childhood schizophrenia' and 'autism' have historically been used synonymously at times). Notably, several of the negative symptoms of schizophrenia spectrum disorders can be considered similar to the executive and social symptoms of autism—autism has its own positive set of symptoms, and schizophrenia its own positive symptoms, but there's an overlap between negative symptoms of the two. Autism was originally the name Eugene Bleuler gave to the way schizophrenic patients tended to withdraw into a fantasy world of their own—that is, withdrawing into an inaccessible inner world, rather than reality. While schizophrenic autism isn't nearly as relevant a clinical concept anymore, it's kinda funny how the two diagnoses diverged from that point.

It's also worth noting that schizophrenia spectrum disorders are probably neurodevelopmental, and both schizophrenia-spec disorders and autism feature enlarged ventricles in the brain. But correlation is not causation—this commonality may not mean anything. In schizospec disorders, ventricle enlargement tends to link to greater untreated duration of illness (as a visible sign of neurodegeneration), while in autism, I think it's just there. Not sure on that one, though. Not all people with ASD or schizospec disorders necessarily have enlarged ventricles, either—it's just a thing that seems worth noting.

Further, the predominant theory of how schizophrenia spectrum disorders work is that there is dopamine dysregulation—that is, some bits of the brain are getting too much, causing positive symptoms, and others are not getting enough, causing negative symptoms. Either that, or dopamine metabolism isn't working properly. We largely figured out that dopamine is probably involved in schizospec disorders by working backwards from the mechanism of action of the antipsychotics: that is, neuroleptics suppress dopamine, and dopamine suppression makes psychosis less bad—therefore, dopamine is involved in psychosis. But it's likely more complex than that, in part because not all people with schizospec disorders will respond to antidopaminergic drugs, and in part because SGAs are generally more likely to be effective than first-gen antipsychotics, and SGAs target more than just dopamine. One other theory posits that NMDA, which is a subtype of the neurotransmitter called glutamate, may also be involved. I'm not going to try to explain it here, since I don't know enough about the NMDA theory to be able to coherently string together a sentence about it. But, keep reading.

We don't entirely understand the mechanism behind autism. It probably involves synaptic pruning to some extent. It may also involve having an overactive brain, in part due to lack of pruning meaning that there is no brain highway so much as a network of ratruns that get clogged up very easily, and in part because GABA, the main inhibitory neurotransmitter we have, isn't doing something right. I think it's interesting that NMDA, a form of glutamate, might have links to psychosis, and that autism also probably involves something weird with glutamate, but I also don't know enough to say whether this is just a weird coincidence or if it's actually relevant. Nevertheless, even if it is a coincidence, I do find it funny to note these commonalities considering the historical links between the diagnoses.

It's also notable that autistic people experience psychosis at higher rates than allistic folks—I'm pretty sure schizospec disorder rates are also elevated among autistic folks—and I'm semi-sure autism is also more common in those with schizospec disorders than in those without.

Okay, now to where the meds come in.

Autism can cause varying levels of disability, ranging from those who need relatively little support to those who need full-time care. Often, higher support needs (HSN) autistics tend to have more dramatic self-injurious behaviours, and may struggle more with controlling aggression, with eloping, and other behaviours that are harmful to both themselves and others.

And I'm less-than-comfortable with how modern psychiatry has chosen to deal with this.

The only drug that's approved for treating these behaviours in ASD is risperidone, a second-gen antipsychotic. Some people will find that risperidone works really well for their psychosis—it's an effective drug! —but when it's used in ASD, it's not there to treat psychosis, usually, but to treat aggression, self-injury, and such.

Thing is, the use of risperidone for this purpose is basically an attempt to sedate the autistic child into not doing these things. I'm a low support needs (LSN) autistic who's never taken psychiatric medication, so it's not really my place to judge this as a tactic. I understand that things that some of us initially flinch at, such as putting HSN autistic children on leashes, is the right thing to do if the child is likely to elope, and I understand that if a child is going to hurt themself badly, they need help. But on the other hand, I have reservations since antipsychotics have been used unethically through history, and continue to be used unethically in certain situations. In some cases, antipsychotics may be helpful for autistic children, and I don't know enough to comment, but it's also profoundly uncomfortable to contemplate the fact that certain medications that are infamous for having horrible side-effects are being used on people who may not be able to provide informed consent. It's an ethical conundrum, since if it is the best way to prevent harm, then it's important that we don't flinch on instinct, but I also really, really hope that the HSN autistic people's needs and comfort are being taken into consideration in these circumstances, since both historically and today, HSN autistic people have been treated as subhuman in so, so many circumstances.

#infodump concluded. yikes.#hope the medical bit was as fascinating to some of y'all as it is to me #and that the information is as accurate as possible #i think i've kinda fixated on the worst bits about antipsychotics here. so i just wanna say:#if you've read this and you're on/considering taking an antipsychotic but this post has scared you #please don't worry. this is a raw text post. i promise you you're gonna be okay.

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marshmellowtea · 8 months

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um. so. y'all are not going to believe this but i've had this goddamn fic finished for MONTHS but i fucking FORGOT??? IT WAS HERE??? IT'S JUST BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS BECAUSE I FORGOR I HAD THIS BASICALLY FINISHED FIC JUST WAITING TO BE EDITED AND PUBLISHED HGKLDSJFLKSD 😭

ahem. anyway. sorry for yelling lmao. onto the actual fic summary—basically, i decided to write this silly little thing about human, arospec lila trying to talk about a newly formed crush with an aroacespec will. it's very silly and fluffy and writing it made me giggle a lot, don't expect much angst here, aside from like a sprinkling of it for flavor lmao. that being said, small warning for some toxic queerplatonic partner vibes between will and lila, but the vibe is still mostly lighthearted, it's not too heavy or extreme. also, they're working on it, okay :') they're teenagers who grew up in abusive/traumatizing environments (which isn't referenced in the fic but it definitely shapes the way i characterize them), they don't exactly know how to navigate a healthy relationship yet but they're trying goddammit dskjfkdsafj

.....uh, if it's not obvious, i don't remember how i do summaries on tumblr fics ngl. there'll probably be a cleaner one when this gets posted onto ao3 in a day or two, so watch out for that if you'd prefer to read this on there :P tbh depending on how tired i am when i get home from work i might just go ahead and post it on there later today anyway oops

anyway, onto the fic now, hope y'all enjoy! :)

William's curled up on his side, his upper body in Lila's lap and her hands kneading though his hair in a way that mostly feels good, when she suddenly asks the question.

"Is it called a crush because you want to crush them?"

If this were closer to the beginning of their friendship, when he wasn't already used to weird comments like these from her, William might've sat up in shock, giving her a wide eyed expression of surprise she loves to make fun of him for. This is far from the most outrageous thing she's ever said to him at this point, however, so instead, he just furrows his brow and shifts in her lap a little, not even bothering to open his eyes.

"Lila, what on earth are you talking about...?"

She's quiet for a moment, her hands pausing in his hair. He lets out a little whine at the loss of feeling, and she huffs softly before continuing, using a little bit more of her nails than she was before.

"Let's say...like...maybe there's this person someone thinks is...pretty," she says, the words awkward and stilted in a way he's never heard from her before. "And because they're so pretty, that person keeps...fantasizing about...squeezing them. In their arms. Or under them."

"Ew," he says on instinct, his fingers moving to fiddle with the black ring around the middle finger of his left hand. "Is this hypothetical person you, Lila?"

"No, dumbass!" she says, and, well, that almost sounds convincing. "I'm just...asking. For a friend."

"But I'm your only friend?" he asks, genuinely confused. His confusion then turns to pain, however, as she pulls on his hair—apparently she found that insulting. "Ow! Lila!"

"I have friends. Mainly friends you picked out for us—" and here, she huffs, sounding put upon about his choice in companionship, as though she has no choice in whether she hangs out with them too, "—but friends nonetheless."

...okay, admittedly, he understands where the offense came from now. But still, she claims that he's her only friend enough that of course he would make that assumption, and it's kind of not fair for her to punish him for words he's repeating from her. And also, he must reiterate, ow.

"Anyway, it's for a friend," she insists, sounding a bit wounded. "God. Don't be a smartass, Will, it's not flattering on you."

"I'm not trying to be a smartass, you're just—ugh, nevermind," he grumbles, letting his eyes flutter open and sulking at a vague point in the distance. His hand drifts toward the hem of her skirt, and he plays with it absently, rubbing his fingers over the soft fabric. "Putting all that aside, well...um, sorry to your friend, but I don't think I'm the right person to ask about that. I still don't really...understand all that stuff."

"Ugh, right, I forgot you were a fucking loser."

"I'm not a loser!" he protests, but he immediately feels childish for it. He flips onto his stomach to hide his face in her lap, and is instantly rewarded with one of her hands on the nape of his neck, a warm, comforting weight. "That stuff is just...really complicated..."

"Yeah, well, that's cuz you're a loser who's bad with people, it's okay to admit it."

There's a twinge of fondness to the insult, and despite himself, he finds himself smiling a little at her tone. Still, he decides to retaliate by lightly pinching her on the calf, just under the crook of her knee.

"Ow! Will!"

She then retaliates to him by pulling on his hair again, harder this time despite only using one hand this time. He lets out a sharp cry of pain and smacks her on the knee, pulling out of her lap briefly to escape her wrath. She drops her hands once he's fully off of her and sitting up on his knees, and he scowls at her unamusedly. She scowls back at him, the two of them staring at each other for a moment with equal mild annoyance.

Then, face unchanging, Lila pats her thigh, looking even more annoyed when he doesn't immediately lay back down. "Well?"

He huffs, but obliges, flopping back in her lap, this time on his back so he can continue to scowl at her. One of her hands returns to his hair, and the other one grabs one of his hands, though it feels less like she's just trying to hold his hand and more like she's trying to restrain him from pinching her again. Which, really, is super unfair, given that he only pinched her because she was being mean to him. And she pulled his hair first. And because she always does shit like that to him, and he deserves a chance to defend himself...

...but she is petting his hair in a way he likes again, and her face has softened a little, her lips now in that tiny but genuine sort of half smile he's only seen her use on him. He smiles back at her, wobbly and crooked but just as genuine, letting out a little laugh despite how genuinely annoyed he was moments prior.

"You're the worst," he says, and though he kind of means it he also says it with all the affection in the world. "I am sorry I can't answer your question, though."

"Hey, you also suck," Lila says back, but she coos it in the same tone you'd use on a mischievous kitten. "And it's fine, honestly. It wasn't a serious question, anyway. I was just wondering."

They fall quiet for a moment, and William's eyes fall to their enjoined hands, watching as Lila idly traces his fingers with her thumb. He's struck, then, with the oddest thought—that being, the thought that he does love her, in some weird way, despite the constant bickering and occasional minor physical attacks. That no matter how hard she makes it for him, he cares about her, and he wishes she would let him do that without constantly trying to fight on him on it. That he's glad she loves him too, in her own weird way, because he knows she does but he rarely gets to hear her say it out loud.

Not that he could ever say all that to her, of course. She'd probably just make fun of him.

Instead, he says, "If it is you with the crush...you know I'd be here to listen if you wanted to talk about it, right?"

He's fully prepared to let the conversation end there, but she surprises him by letting out a sigh and saying, "I don't even know if it is a crush."

He raises his eyebrows at that, trying not to get too excited at the information he was just given. She'd hate it if he said it out loud, but she's really easy to scare away on these rare moments where she's being open or vulnerable. "What do you mean?" he asks, trying not to let his voice soften too much.

She groans loudly at that, but she hasn't stopped talking, which, score. "I dunno, William, like...the crush question was kind of a joke? But it also kind of wasn't?"

"...elaborate?"

She groans louder, loud enough to startle him a little. She must feel him jump, because she gives his forehead a light pat before entangling her fingers back in his curls, the hair petting having mostly stopped now. "When I think about this person...I want to hold them as tight as possible and not let go. And squeeze their hand and just...hold it. And..." She grimaces, like it pains her to admit it. "And kiss them, maybe. On their stupid fucking face. Among...other things that I suppose I will graciously spare you."

She taps his ring as she says that, making him giggle. "Thank you. I appreciate that," he says, smiling broadly up at her for a moment, before his face falls back into an inquisitive frown. "Uh, but, Lila? I'm no expert, but that...kind of sounds like a crush? I think?"

Lila chews on her lip for a moment, as if considering what she's going to say next. When she finally speaks, William feels his heart cease to beat in his chest.

"I know, but like...a lot of that is stuff I want to do with you."

William feels his face grow hot, and he stammers, ice cold panic rushing through his veins. Yeah, he loves Lila, but it's not—it's not like that, he's not comfortable with—she knows he's not—

"Not the—not the sex stuff!" Lila says suddenly, giving him a harsh shake. "I didn't say I wanted to do all of that with you, take a fucking breath, Will!"

Oh, he did stop breathing for a second there, didn't he? He inhales deeply as she told him to, letting her lightly push him upright into a sitting position on the bed. He twists around a bit so the two of them are side by side, and she immediately tugs him closer until his head is on her shoulder, awkwardly patting his back in a way he thinks she thinks is comforting. It's a little much, honestly, given that his moment of panic really was just a moment—it was instant relief hearing that she wasn't into him in that way, and it was kind of silly for his brain to jump to that conclusion in the first place anyway since he mostly knows where they'd drawn the lines in their relationship, even if they've never properly talked about it—but he likes these rare occasions where she attempts to fuss over him, so he's not going to protest it. It's kind of sweet, really, even if it's obvious that she has no idea how to comfort another human being.

"Ugh," she says, sounding more embarrassed than exasperated. "Ugh, I said that in the stupidest way, sorry." Then, after a pause, she adds, "I mean...it's all just stupid, anyway."

"Aww, no it's not," William says gently, very comfortable in his place nestled against her side. "I guess I get what you mean though. I know I don't have a crush on you, but I like cuddling you and stuff. I'd also feel weird if I suddenly felt the same thing toward someone else but with...other stuff too."

"Yeah," Lila says, sounding mopey. Probably because she's moping, if he had to guess. "It's not just that, either, wanting to touch this person the way I touch you also feels...different. Different in a way that's hard to pin down." She grabs his hand, having lost it in the shuffle of him sitting up, and once again starts tracing his fingers, running her thumb from the back of his hand, over his knuckles, down to his fingernails. "Like when I do this, it's nice, but I don't do it and think about you as my boyfriend. That'd be disgusting."

William barks out a laugh at that. Technically, it could be an insult toward him, but... "I understand what you're getting at, yeah. I want to be close to you, but you're not, like, my girlfriend or anything, and I wouldn't really want you to be. You're just my friend, but, like...a friend I want to cuddle sometimes."

"Stop saying that we cuddle," Lila scoffs, but the usual harshness of her tone is still rather muted. "But...yeah. Exactly. It's different, and it's weird."

William hums sympathetically, giving her arm a light pat. "Yeah," he says quietly. "That does sound weird." Then, after a pause, "I'm sorry. I wish I could help you more."

Lila huffs, letting her cheek rest against his head. "I wish you could help me more too," she bemoans, interlocking their fingers and giving his hand a light squeeze. "But, whatever. Just talking about it was nice, so you're not completely useless..."

Once again, William just chuckles at that. He can hear the unsaid Thank you in her voice, and he appreciates it, even if he does wish she would just be straightforwardly nice to him sometimes. Hell, not even just to him, oftentimes he wishes she would be nice in general.

But...she's working on it. He thinks. There's been a notable difference in the way she speaks to Martha, Ellie, and Regina, anyway. She's still on guard around Jim and Mike, and god, he doesn't really know what her deal with Tanya is, but she's friendlier with those three, at least. And...she's been more gentle with him, too. At the very least there's been less pinching.

He's proud of her. Which is another thing he can't tell her if he doesn't want her to laugh in his face, but, hey. Maybe one of these days.

"...you wanna lay down now?"

Her question pulls him out of his introspection, and William hums in assent, finally pulling his head off of her shoulder. "Are we gonna take a nap now?" he asks, rubbing at his face absently. "I got pretty close to falling asleep before, well, you know."

She sniffs, pulling her legs up on the bed and stretching out behind him, her arms and legs reaching each end of the mattress before she rolls back onto her side and brings them back in again. "I mean, you can sleep if you want. I don't know if I will."

"You're not at all tired?" he asks, curling up on his side next to her. They're face to face, now, and he can see the exhaustion in her face, as well as the slight flush left over from their conversation.

"Not really," she sniffs. "I mean, I don't think I am enough to fall asleep. I just want to rest my eyes a little."

"Oh, okay," he says, scooting a little closer to her. "I might fall asleep. You didn't want to talk more, did you?"

Lila shakes her head rather than verbally answer, and William smiles to himself. She's probably going to fall asleep too, judging by the way she's gotten quieter, but even if she doesn't, he knows she'll let him sleep if he needs to. Unless something important happens. Or if she gets too bored, which is something important in Lila's eyes.

She kind of is the worst, but luckily for her, he kind of does love her.

He lets his eyes fall closed then, pressing further into her warmth until he's tucked up under her chin. She doesn't fight him on it, instead wrapping a loose arm over him, and he knows he's very close to drifting off when he hears her ask one last thing.

"You're really not going to ask who my hypothetical crush is on, are you?"

It's an interesting remark—it almost sounds like she's disappointed. Still, it's not interesting enough for him to open his eyes. "I kinda figured I wouldn't be able to get it out of you," he mumbles, his voice muffled by her collarbone. "Why?"

"...I dunno. I just thought you would ask," she says, starting to sound close to sleep herself.

"Did you want me too?"

"No." She says it too quickly. And then amends, "Maybe..."

He laughs sleepily, resting one curled up hand on the small of her waist, wanting to be closer, trying to absorb the warmth she's emanating—she's always run weirdly warm, while he runs weirdly cold. He tries not too think too hard about the way that makes them fit so well together. "Tell you what. When I wake up, I'll pester you about it as much as you want me to. Is that okay?"

"I didn't want you to pester me," she protests, scowl audible in her voice. "Just ask."

He laughs again, suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling of contentment. "'m gonna pester you so hard," he mumbles, picturing the dirty look he knows she's giving him despite his still closed eyes. "'m not gonna leave you alone until you give me answers. S'only fair."

"How's that fair?"

"I mean...you pester me when I try to keep secrets from you."

"I don't..." Lila protests, but she sounds amusingly unsure. "Besides, since when did you try to keep secrets from me anyway...?"

"Mm. I stopped tryin' cuz you'd always get them outta me."

"Well, that just sounds like your fault."

"...maybe you've got me there," he mumbles, chuckling softly. "I jus' think it's my turn to needle somethin' out of you this time, mmkay?"

"Yeah, well, good luck with that," Lila grumbles, making him giggle more.

The two of them then lapse into a comfortable silence, aside from their quiet breathing. William is just about asleep when he feels more than hears Lila murmur something against his hair.

"Love you, Will. No matter what happens."

He smiles widely at that. She must think he's asleep—rarely does she say that she loves him without him saying it first. Even then, he usually receives it with a (nonetheless fond) eye roll, so hearing it now sounding so genuine is a nice treat.

"Love you too, Lila," he mumbles back, his voice slurred from exhaustion. "Love you so so much."

Given the way she tenses, he was probably right in thinking that she thought he was asleep. Still, she doesn't respond with a protest or a quip like she normally does, whether because of her tiredness, or maybe she just wanted to let a nice moment linger for once. Either way, he'll count that as a win.

It doesn't take him long to drift off after that, the smile not leaving his face even as he sleeps.

#who's lila #who's lila?#william clarke #lila #will/lila #queerplatonically but still. them :) <3 #also #implied lila/tanya #it's vague about who's she's crushing on tbh but that's the authorial intent lmao #if you wanna read it as another ship i don't really mind tbh but if i theoretically add another installment to this au just know #that that's where this is heading lol #marshy writes #this'll end up on the main account and not the side account cuz there's no agere and/or whump here #i mean some whump fics end up on main. it's about the vibes #but this doesn't have whump so that automatically puts this on main #and frankly i rarely post to my main ao3 account anyway so it needs some love okay #i know none of y'all asked but ahglkasdjfklds #on the off chance someone was curious? maybe?#yeah idk lmao anyway. expect this on ao3 soon 👍

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